Occasionally
by Ephemeral Cry Wolf
Summary: Occasionally, when meetings were being held in America, Alfred would wake up to the sweet smell of perfection and find a nice view of freshly brewed coffee awaiting him. It was moments like these that had Alfred wishing he wasn't a nation; he wished he could have these moments in his daily life, and he'd have that, if only he'd just been a human. RusAme. Slice of life


**Updated: Fixed some wording**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

The delicious smell of freshly brewed, hot coffee tickled his nose and he lazily opened his tired blue eyes in search of its source. A massive cup full to the rim with liquid energy hovered right in front of his face, filling his vision. Alfred wrapped his fingers through the handle and relished in the comforting warmth against his palms.

Sitting up now, Alfred purred in satisfaction, land of dreams forgotten and his busy schedule no where near crossing his mind. "You're too kind to me, really."

The tiniest of smiles crawled to his lips and he looked up to meet the gaze of his angel in disguise. Ivan was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring intensely at Alfred, with his lucent violet eyes, as he brought the cup to his lips. The curvature of Alfred's smile widening into an utterly satisfied grin at the taste of Ivan's hand brewed coffee seemed to work; Ivan allowed himself to smile, a genuine one, proud of his successful attempt to meet his self-imposed standards of amazing boyfriend accomplishments.

Ivan didn't really understand why the American liked the beverage so much, but waking him up with coffee in bed provided him with Alfred's purest of expressions; some only he had seen. The Russian understood the morning delight just a little; he himself liked to start his mornings with a cup of warm chamomile tea. "I have to spoil you every chance I get, I don't always get to hear your voice when I'm home," Ivan sighed into the thickness of his scarf, "Living in different time zones is annoying."

Alfred's grin widened even more; occasionally, when meetings were being held in America, Alfred would wake up to the sweet smell of perfection and find a nice view of freshly brewed coffee awaiting him. It was moments like these that had Alfred wishing he wasn't a nation; he wished he could have these moments in his daily life, and he'd have that, if only he'd just been a human.

Each time Ivan would follow the exact same, admittedly, extremely charming ritual of waking Alfred up with hot, fresh coffee and filling his life with sunshine. And on these occasions Alfred would wonder when, and most importantly how, Ivan Braginsky, the coldest nation on the face of the earth, had turned into the light of his life.

Alfred took another sip and Ivan reached to take the cup from his hands; he left it hastily on the nightstand and leaned in to place a soft morning kiss on Alfred's mouth, tasting coffee on his still warm lips. Suddenly, feeling very awake, Alfred bit lightly on Ivan's lower lip, making him pull away and raise a pale eyebrow at the honey blonde's audacity.

Alfred stuck his tongue out, earning himself a playful pinch on the cheek. Ivan's arms sneaked beneath Alfred's waist, pushing away the duvet and pillows as he jumped on top of him, effectively pinning Alfred's body on the mattress. A less than subtle squeak left the American's lips, leaving him pouting as he stared into the eyes of his conquer.

Hovering over Alfred, violet eyes fixated on his face and Alfred burst into laughter at Ivan's cuteness. Determined to show the American who was the boss, Ivan squinted threateningly at Alfred's silliness and his mouth swooped down on coffee stained lips, capturing his whole being in the most fervent of kisses.

God, Ivan really knew how to kiss.

Ivan massaged warm lips with his own, teeth lightly grazing the glossy skin, before his tongue slipped through the tiny opening to deepen the kiss. His fingers trailed down Alfred's back, across his waist to his belly, making every tiny hair on the American's body stand on edge.

The Russian's palms lingered just above the waistband of the American's underwear, daring Alfred to resist his addictive caresses. Overwhelmed by his taste, Alfred realized that he had lost the game of domination; once more Ivan had been able to make him surrender to his Russian charms with the only weapon being Alfred's insatiable lust for his touch. But Alfred didn't mind being dominated, at least not now; he wanted to see how Ivan would handle him if he didn't fight back, so resigning to his desire, Alfred bucked his hips into Ivan, urging him on.

Basking in his beauty, Ivan smirked against Alfred's lips and let his fingers roam to intimate settings and warm places, as the coffee cup lay forgotten on the nightstand, its contents slowly cooling down. Only the rays of the sun witnessing the union of two very powerful nations. One very sunny nation having melted through a very cold heart, and the other having cooled the burning instability of a young heart; both of them now equally warm.

 **A/N: Wow that's hubby material Ivan. Alfred's lucky.**

 **I was going to expand this, but I like how this turned out simply short and sweet.**


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